


love in its disrepute

by Flavortext



Series: GO songfics [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Other, set post-canon but kinda ambiguous between book and TV so think what you want!, soulmates a little, whelp theyre human now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: Aziraphale prefers not to sleep. Some nights he will find a comfortable position in an armchair and do his best to sit quietly, and he could even be persuaded to admit he might doze, but usually, he is able to busy himself doing one thing or another during the hours that the rest of the world takes to rest. Which is why, when he comes back to himself with his cheek pressed into the pages of a book, his desk lamp glaring into his eyes, he nearly falls out of his chair.The powers of heaven and hell elect to leave their rebellious representatives powerless and on their own in the wake of the Not-Apocalypse. It might just be the final freedom they need to build something new...there's just a few hurdles of mortal life in the way.





	1. Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure where this is going tbh but I've had ideas for this fic swimming in my head since before the show came out, and this first chapter feels like a solid start to me. I first came up with it doing a tarot reading, so (hopefully) every chapter of this will be themed after a card/spread, which I will detail in the end notes. I don't actually know if Judgement or another card was what initially got me writing this but the title felt right so I'm sticking to it. I hope you enjoy!!

Crowley wakes up slowly. That in itself is not unusual, the view of sunlight creeping across his carpet through his half-closed eyes is one he gets to appreciate most days. 

The sticky feeling of his skin is what startles him all the way awake. Crowley kicks at the sheet that’s gotten wrapped around his form in the night, shivering as the cool air of his apartment makes contact with his _ sweat _ . 

Crowley stares down at his legs, still, half tangled in the sheets, and feels his ( _ beating, and isn’t that a sickening thought, without his permission and all) _ heart go cold. 

“Well, fuck.” 

\--- 

Aziraphale prefers not to sleep. Some nights he will find a comfortable position in an armchair and do his best to sit quietly, and he could even be persuaded to admit he might doze, but usually, he is able to busy himself doing one thing or another during the hours that the rest of the world takes to rest. Which is why, when he comes back to himself with his cheek pressed into the pages of a book, his desk lamp glaring into his eyes, he nearly falls out of his chair. 

Aziraphale rubs his eyes, trying ( _ and failing _ ) to will away the bright dots and crust. He tugs the chain that turns the lamp off and sits in the still bright room, sunlight from the front of the shop filtering in through the blinds and shelves, beautifully restored to the exact condition he remembered them, though he can’t help but feel like the books aren’t quite  _ genuine _ anymore. Aziraphale leans back in his chair and carefully closes the book he had been reading. He feels fuzzy and far too... slow, and there’s an unfamiliar churning feeling in his gut. 

That gives him pause. Aziraphale straightens in his chair, staring at the cold half-drunk cup of tea on his desk intently, and focuses on making the pain go away. After what feels like quite a few minutes of this, and the dawning realization that he can’t quite seem to steady his breathing, Aziraphale reaches out a hand and takes the cup. He brings it to his chapped lips and sips as measuredly as he can manage. He sets the empty cup down next to the book, takes a few deeper breaths, and pushes himself up from the chair, turning towards the stairs and the wall-mounted phone next to them. He stands in front of the cream-colored device for a few moments, before reaching out to it. His hand slows for a moment as his brain struggles to remember the number. 

“God  _ damn _ it.” 

\---

Crowley picks up on the second ring. He’d managed to drag himself through the steps of undressing, showering, and dressing again without a full-blown panic, and then he’d sat in front of his phone in his office ( _ Repaired, thanks to a very expensive cleaning crew and quite a lot of waving his hand to have the humans think nothing of what they were doing)  _ and... stewed. The small potted plant that sits as the centerpiece for the desk is looking a little brown, and he stares aggressively at it, getting more and more anxious as he gains no reaction. 

“Angel,” Crowley said, voice a little clipped. The other end of the line is silent for a moment. 

“Dear, would you want to come over for some tea, say, soon?” Crowley frowns, Aziraphale sounds... just about as stressed and tired as  _ he _ feels. 

“Of course, I can be there in...” He pauses. If his suspicions are correct, which is growing more and more likely, he actually has no idea a normal drive to Aziraphale’s would take. “As soon as I can.” Crowley tries to finish casually. 

“Good, okay,” Aziraphale says. Crowley can picture the worry lines between his brows. “I’ll see you soon, er, drive safe.” Crowley bites his tongue. 

“Okay.” He hears Aziraphale breath out sharply on the other end of the phone, before the click of the receiver being put down. 

Crowley sets his new phone back down and looks at his clothing, which feels too tight and itchy on his skin, in a way it never has before and forces himself to get up and move before he gets too far into his own head. His sunglasses had been the first thing he’d put on, after a very anxious few minutes avoiding looking in his bathroom mirror ( _ The results of which, were of course he looked, and then shoved the articles firmly over his eyes and firmly did not cry, because that simply wouldn’t be proper, would it.),  _ so he simply grabs his car keys from next to the door, and lets himself out. 

The restored Bently matches every qualification he could have for it, at least those he would echo to another living soul. He’s spent the last week since the End-that-wasn’t running circles in his mind trying to think of a remedy for the one thing it  _ is  _ missing. It turns out that when only one other man-shaped being spends any significant time in one’s car in its entire existence (until he’d given Anathema a ride that fateful night), Crowley had gotten used to the  _ presence  _ of Aziraphale lingering, whether a side effect of his angelic nature or Crowley’s demonic senses or both, and when the car was created anew it lacked that  comforting feeling. His first idea had been to  _ acquire _ some of Aziraphale’s clothing and let it sit in the back for a bit, but he’d decided that might not be genuine enough, and was in the midst of designing an extended vacation for the two of them, perhaps to visit old haunts and relive some favorable experiences. He was picturing at least one moonlit walk on a beach, perhaps some stargazing. Real evil stuff. He probably would never get around to asking, especially now. 

Crowley unlocks and opens the door to his car, smoothing his hands over the wheel as he folds his legs inside and letting his eyes closed. This, at least, feels right. It’s still his Bently, even lacking Aziraphale's scent and energy. He knows this car inside and out, and even if the eyes that stared back at him in the mirror were round and brown and human, he is powerful behind this wheel. Crowley takes a breath ( _ It hasn’t gotten less strange)  _ and fiddles with the radio for a moment. There’s a deep-seated moment of fear as he turns the car on before familiar notes begin to play. 

_ Open up your mind and let me step inside _

_ Rest your weary head and let your heart decide _

_ It's so easy when you know the rules _

_ It's so easy all you have to do _

_ Is fall in love _

Crowley nods to himself and centers his gaze forward. His eyes drift momentarily down to the dashboard. 

“Oh,” Crowley pauses, before saying a phrase that’s never passed his lips before. “God damn it.” He’s almost out of gas. 

\--- 

Crowley arrives in front of Aziraphale’s shop several hours after leaving his apartment, after the second most harrowing drive of his lifetime. First, had been the issue of  _ finding a gas station _ , then the wonderful experience of needing to consult the manual to remember how to fill his own car, and then another long chunk of time wandering the streets quite thoroughly lost on streets he’d never had reason to take before, before finally arriving on Aziraphale’s street only to need to spend another fifteen minutes looking for parking. 

It at least lets Crowley get through two full listenings of two of his  _ seventeen _ copies of Best of Queen, which have remained as they were when he last played them, and try out a whole new platform of curses and turns of phrase to direct at his fellow automobile drivers and passing pedestrians. 

Aziraphale’s shop looks about how he would expect, meaning there’s an “out to lunch” sign taped to the door (_He placed it there on Monday, while happily telling Crowley he was giving himself a week off to get (re)acquainted with his books before letting anyone else look at them), _and the flower boxes Crowley had convinced him to put out front are still empty and bone dry. He answers after a few knocks. Crowley manages not to immediately comment his first thought, an achievement after his morning saying every string of explicatives that come to mind, which would be to say “_you look like fucking shit.”_

“Hello, angel.” He says instead. He almost gets the impression that Aziraphale winces. 

“Come on in,” Aziraphale steps aside, waving Crowley towards the back of the shop and shutting ( _ and locking, Crowley notes _ ) the door behind him. Crowley winds through the shelves and follows the smell of freshly brewed tea and coffee to the little back room of the bookshop. He takes a seat on his usual side of the worn-out couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. Usually, this would immediately prompt a scolding from the angel, but Aziraphale only raises an eyebrow at his and shakes his head. Crowley sighs and puts his feet firmly on the floor. It’s no fun if it doesn’t get a rise out of him. 

“Sugar?” Aziraphale asks politely, holding up a nice cup towards Crowley. He shakes his head and takes it, wrapping his fingers around the warmth and letting it sink into his skin. Aziraphale crosses his legs in the loveseat across from Crowley and steeples his fingers. 

“How, er, how’s it going?” Crowley asks after a sip, squinting at Aziraphale through his sunglasses. Aziraphale purses his lips and is quiet for a moment. 

“Did you decide you didn’t want the world to end before our conversation, or in the moment?” he says after Crowley takes another sip. Crowley swallows and thinks. 

“I think...I’d come to that conclusion quite some time ago, gradually. I’d never put it in quite that explicit terms, even in my own head, though.” He responds. Aziraphale nods. 

“And, did you expect, hmm, immediate fallout? Hellish punishment for deviation?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley shakes his head. 

“That’s your folks, I think.” That makes Aziraphale’s worried frown twitch upward, for just a moment. 

“I think I sort of thought something more dramatic would happen, I guess it did, eventually,” Aziraphale waves his hand at the shop around them. “But I was a little surprised not to be evaporated where I stood.” 

“Mhmm. I’m sorry.” Crowley picks at his nails. He’s going to need to start cutting them. “And no word from above, still?” 

Aziraphale stiffens and sits up, setting down his untouched tea. 

“Not, not exactly.” 

“No signs?” Crowley looks up. 

“There’s been...something.” Aziraphale sighs and picks his cup back up, taking a long drink from it. Crowley waits patiently, knee starting to bounce. 

“Oh?” He says. Aziraphale fusses with his vest for a moment. 

“I can’t do miracles anymore. As of this morning.” He says, voice forcibly measured. Crowley feels pale. 

“Oh,” he responds a little dumbly. Aziraphale sighs, looking back up at him. 

“I might need to rely on you for some things now, your demonic powers, I mean. Until I land on my-“ Crowley cuts Aziraphale off silently, just by reaching up and taking off his sunglasses. He sets them gently on the coffee table and sits with his elbows propped on his knees. Aziraphale struggles for words for a moment, taking in Crowley’s eyes. 

“Oh, dear,” he says finally, reaching out and brushing some hair off Crowley’s forehead.

He does his best not to flinch. Aziraphale’s hand lingers on his temple for a moment before he draws away. “They’re still beautiful,” Aziraphale says in place of anything else. Crowley sits back, then does a bit of a double-take.

“ _ Still?” _ He asks. Aziraphale gives him a tight smile. 

“I just mean, your eyes have always been entrancing. These are- different, yes, but still wonderfully you.” Aziraphale shrugs, taking a sip of his tea. 

“You- you liked my eyes?” Crowley says, choked up a bit despite himself. Aziraphale gives him a fond smile.

“Crowley, of course, I did.” 

“But- I was a demon.” Is all Crowley can manage. Aziraphale tuts at him. 

“You were, and we were friends anyway, weren’t we? Your eyes were just another part of you, another reminder that it was- well, that we were different. On our own side, however, you put it. I liked them quite a lot, dear.”  _ I still like you, quite a lot _ , he wants to add. Aziraphale smiles into his cup as Crowley struggles to catch up with him.

“Thanksss.” Is all he says finally, blush receding if only through pure will. He then tilts his head. 

“So not everything’s changed!” Aziraphale says. Crowley huffs and crosses his arms.

“I had to get  _ gas,  _ Aziraphale.” He says with a pout. Aziraphale shakes his head. 

“There’s quite a lot I’m afraid we might have to do, now,” Aziraphale says sadly. “My accounts are at least still in order, so money isn’t an item for the moment.” He remarks. Crowley makes a face. 

“Dining out will be a nightmare.” He says. Aziraphale manages to laugh, at that. He rises and plucks the now empty cup from Crowley’s hands. 

“Dear boy, why don’t the two of us go to the park, stretch our legs so to speak. Things will fall into place, there’s no use fretting.” He offers a hand to Crowley. With a continued frown the other man takes it and rises. Aziraphale doesn’t back away, and for a moment Crowley is overwhelmed. His cologne, the soft gaze, the feeling of their joined hands and his knuckles brushing that  _ damned _ 18th-century waistcoat. Crowley very nearly staggers backward, but a hand on his shoulder steadies him. 

“I’ve been rather shaken up all morning, best not to get up too fast.” Aziraphale pats Crowley’s shoulder and straightens his jacket. 

“Ngk. Right.” Crowley stammers. He puffs himself up a little and sidesteps out of Aziraphale’s grip. “Park?” He says, already headed for the door. Aziraphale hurries after him. 

\-- 

  
  



	2. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley pay a visit and get some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm changing the name of this and adding it to my songfic series, bc Be by Hozier came up on my GO playlist and felt fitting :) also tags updated but no real warnings needed for this chapter. (yes that does mean I've written two fics for Be now but. they're different and its a GOOD SONG)

After the park, which is loud and sunny and not fully enjoyable for either of them, really, with the headaches they’re sporting, Crowley and Aziraphale sit in the Bentley in silence as the former navigates at fast but arguably reasonable speed onto the M25. 

“Are you certain she can help?” Aziraphale asks, tapping his fingers on the window. Crowley shifts his grip on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to honk or swerve past the car in front of him. 

“Not at all.” He says. Aziraphale sighs. 

“But she’s our best connection to the- well, occult, I suppose.” He says. Crowley nods and takes the chance, maneuvering around the car and waving off the resulting honk before slotting himself into the crawl a few cars ahead. He hasn’t really achieved much in the scheme of the traffic jam, but silently he lets himself think  _ still got it _ , just to preen his ego from where it’s shriveled quite a bit. Aziraphale continues next to him. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to get our powers  _ back? _ ” He asks. Crowley very nearly laughs. 

“Angel,” Aziraphale winces a little, but Crowley refuses to give up that sentiment, now. “I’ve been cast out before, there’s really no going back. Just be glad you didn’t have to  _ fall. _ ” He stresses the last word through gritted teeth. Aziraphale folds in on himself and nods. 

“I know, dear. I know.” He reaches out a hand halfway towards Crowley’s on the gear shift but thinks better of it, letting the manicured fingertips fall back into his lap. Crowley wishes he hadn’t. His skin still prickles where their hands brushed as they passed bread back and forth for the ducks. He wants to experiment, see if every touch from Aziraphale is electric like his skin has never been touched before. Crowley elects to say nothing and fiddles with the radio, turning up the music that Aziraphale had diplomatically reduced to a low background hum. 

_ To avoid complications _

_ She never kept the same address _

_ In conversation _

_ She spoke just like a baroness _

“Do we...know she still lives there?” Crowley asks suddenly, turning the music back down a hair. Aziraphale frowns at this. 

“I suppose we don't.” He remarks. Crowley groans, but stays on the road. Aziraphale leans against the window and watches the crawl of motor vehicles slowly but surely give way to the countryside as they turn off the main drag. Crowley relaxes a bit as well, rolling his head on his shoulders as he reminds his body that it’s making this drive without the threat of the world on its shoulders, this time. Except the stakes still, feel quite personal. There’s a tense knot at the base of his skull that won’t go away. 

Crowley startles a little as Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest gently on his fingers gripping the wheel. 

“We will figure this out, Crowley.” He says softly. Crowley forces his fingers to relax under the warm touch. Aziraphale sounds so  _ sure _ , is the thing. He may not quite have Crowley’s skills in imagination, but he up until now has still been an angel, and when he’s sure of something... it tends to happen. Crowley spares him a glance and a smile. Aziraphale nods back at him and lets his hand fall. Crowley focuses back on the road. 

Jasmine Cottage looks much the same as the pair last saw it, overgrown and tucked away. Crowley is immensely relieved to see a bicycle leaning up against the garden fence. He raises an eyebrow as they pull up, and a shaggy-haired man gets to his feet, wearing heavy gardening gloves. He waves. Crowley looks at Aziraphale and shrugs before stepping out of the car. 

“I suppose you two want to see Anathema?” The man- Crowley recalls him being there, at the airbase, but can’t for the life of him remember his name. Aziraphale steps forward and holds out a hand. The man sheds his gloves and puts them down before shaking it. 

“We have some business with her if she’s around?” Aziraphale says. 

“She’s just inside, I’m Newton Pulsifer, she’s been saying you’ll come around for days now.” He turns and motions for them to follow. Crowley falls into line beside Aziraphale. There’s a horseshoe mark burned above the door, he notices. He supposes it can’t hurt him now. 

The inside of the cottage is cluttered, and there’s the smell of bread baking. Aziraphale perks up at that. 

“Newt?” Anathema's voice carries from the kitchen. Newt leads them towards it, shedding the knee pads he was wearing as he goes. 

The witch sits at the kitchen table with a loaf of bread cooling next to her, reading a magazine. She looks up and raises an eyebrow, waving a hand towards the oven. 

“Your bread is done.” She says idly, setting the magazine down after marking her page and letting her hand fall on the breadknife on the table. She surveys Aziraphale and Crowley- and mostly Crowley, he notes with an uncomfortable shift- for a long moment. Newt scurries around the table and dons two oven mitts, diving into the oven and pulling out the second loaf of bread. He sets it on the stovetop and turns back around to watch them. 

“Er, hello,” Aziraphale starts, wringing his hands. Anathema loosens her grip on the knife and settles back a little in her chair. 

“You’re human.” She says flatly. Crowley deflates. 

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale glances back at him. 

“Great, can you do anything?” Crowley snaps. Aziraphale swats him on the arm. Anathema narrows her eyes. 

“Sit down for starters.” She gestures at the chairs across from her. 

“Would you like some tea?” Newt asks, already fetching cups and the kettle. Aziraphale nods. Crowley pulls his chair out for him and sits. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to help you, in the long term,” Anathema says. They both pretty much expected that. 

“Is there anything you  _ can _ do?” Crowley asks. Anathema studies them for a moment and then stands, goes to a box on her shelf and pulls out two tea bags. She swaps them out for the one Newt had already set in their cups and shoos him off to sit down at the table as well, pouring the water herself. She sets the cups in front of them sternly. 

“That will help with the headaches. I suggest you start actually drinking and eating regularly, too.” She sits back down. Crowley’s brows knit together. He supposes the feeling in his stomach  _ could _ be hunger. He cautiously takes the tea and sips it. Aziraphale does the same. 

“So we’re perfectly mortal, then?” He asks sadly. Anathema shrugs. 

“I can’t say for sure. You’ll either start aging normally or you won’t, only time will tell.” She says. “But your aura’s are definitely human.” She pauses and purses her lips, looking at them. “Okay, not  _ completely. _ You’re still...special.” She says finally. Crowley straightens up and looks at her more directly. 

“How so?” He asks. Anathema squints at him. 

“You match. Not like, twins, but like you’re supposed to fit together. Same as before, clearer now without all the holy-and-unholy in the way.” She says. Aziraphale looks at Crowley. 

“Oh,” They both say. Anathema smiles a little. 

“I’m sure you can have a conversation about what that means on your own time. I couldn’t tell you.” She says mock-sweetly. Crowley feels the very beginnings of a blush starting and firmly tells it to stop. He’s not sure it works. 

“Well,” Aziraphale says diplomatically. “Thank you. It certainly helps to know, we’ll figure out the rest.” He finishes off his tea. 

“How’s the boy?” Crowley asks, finding his voice. Anathema actually smiles, now. 

“He’s doing well, back to causing normal mischief, nothing occult about him whatsoever, besides a heightened intuition and a knack for getting what he wants.” She says. “I’m staying here to keep an eye on him, but I think everything is as it should be.” 

“That’s a relief,” Aziraphale says softly. Crowley nods. Aziraphale’s hand resting on the table brushes lightly against his own. “We won’t keep you longer unless there’s something we can do to thank you for your assistance in the whole... averting the end.” He says. Anathema thinks for a moment. 

“I’m opening a shop in town, I suppose I could use an investor.” She says with a grin. Crowley’s skin itches. 

“Consider it my newfound goodwill.” He mutters. 

“That’s very kind of you!” Newt pipes up. Aziraphale's hand rests over Crowley’s as he bristles. He feels he should be irked at how effective it is at calming him. Instead, he fights the urge to twist so they’re palm to palm. 

“I’ll send you my information,” Anathema says, taking a notepad off the table and scribbling her number. She tears the page out and hands it to Crowley. He shoves it into his pocket a little roughly. Aziraphale brushes his thumb over his knuckles. 

“We’ll get out of your hair, then.” He says, standing. Crowley mourns at the loss of his hand and follows suit. Anathema smiles and picks up her bread knife. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” She says, making the first slice. “Drive safe.” Crowley rolls his eyes and brushes past Aziraphale, showing himself out with a wave. He hears Aziraphale exchange a few pleasantries before following him quickly out of the cottage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's card was The High Priestess. I don't know how Anathema would feel about being given that role, but she's certainly the most powerful woman this pair knows.  
This will probably have one more chapter and a companion smut piece posted separately! Thank's for reading <3


	3. 6 of Pentacles

Aziraphale rests a hand on Crowley’s when he reaches for the gear shift, stopping him. Crowley goes rigid. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale starts, voice gentle. Crowley wants to bristle at being treated like a spooked animal, but he supposes it’s rather fitting. He very carefully loosens his grip on the wheel. Aziraphale’s thumb brushes over his knuckles. 

“Er,” He says. Aziraphale is looking at him with a cautiously bright smile. “So,” He says. He fixes his eyes on the road winding around back to Tadfield. “We should- we should stop somewhere, get a bite to eat?” He says, voice pitching up into a question. Aziraphale nods. 

“There was a pub we passed on the way in.” He says. He doesn’t move his hand from where it’s resting over Crowley’s. 

“Right,” Crowley says. He closes his eyes for a moment and then twists in his seat to face Aziraphale. 

“Hello,” Aziraphale says like he was expecting him. Crowley feels himself blush. His eyes are blue and sparkling and Crowley doesn’t flinch when Aziraphale’s other hand comes up and removes his glasses, setting them gently down on the dashboard. The hand returns and brushes some hair off his forehead before resting on his cheek. Crowley’s breath catches. 

“She said we  _ match _ , isn’t that quaint?” Aziraphale says. Crowley swallows. 

“Nhm. Quite. Angel,” He doesn’t know where to go from there, leaning into the touch. Aziraphale just smiles at him. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley, that this happened.” He says, thumb pressing into Crowley’s cheek. Crowley shrugs, for all he’s worth. “And I’m  _ very _ sorry I’ve taken so long to catch up to you, in this regard.” He adds. Crowley squints at him. 

“In what regard?” He asks. Aziraphale chuckles. 

“I’ve just- I’ve been scared, of what we have between us. But it’s like you said, we’re on our own side. No one’s watching. We’re  _ free _ Crowley. We can have this. If you want.” He tacks on the last bit hurriedly. Crowley feels a bit like he’s falling all over again. His hand under Aziraphale’s twitches. Aziraphale turns them palm to palm and interlocks their fingers which- well, isn’t what he was expecting, but is exactly what he  _ wanted _ , he discovers. Crowley lets out a shaky breath. 

“‘Kay.” He mutters. Aziraphale tilts his head. 

“That’s all?” He teases. Crowley shakes his head, wanting to shrink away and lean into the touch more all at once. “I mean, do you need me to say I love you? That I want you in any way you’ll have me? That I’d wait another eternity if that was what you needed?” Crowley raises his voice a little. Aziraphale just smiles at him and shakes his head. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer, Crowley. I couldn’t.” He’s inched closer, turned in his seat. Crowley’s free hand migrates slowly from the steering wheel to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He gets no protest, so he slides it up to the juncture of Aziraphale’s neck. A smile. 

“I love you too, dear, just so we’re on the same page,” Aziraphale says. He tilts Crowley’s head towards him a little. Crowley blinks, and can’t hide the smile. If his eyes water, that’s his business, and Aziraphale doesn’t comment. Crowley makes a small noise in the back of his throat and surges forward. 

His lips on Aziraphale’s are earth-shattering. Crowley is convinced for a long still moment that the world has ended around them, that this really was the last straw, god’s last cruel trick. And then the hand on his cheek slides around to the back of his neck, and Aziraphale is kissing him back and everything falls back into motion, into place. Crowley hiccups a little, teary, but Aziraphale just releases his hand to brush the droplets from his cheek and keeps kissing him. They break away to breathe, still getting the hang of that need, but come back together. 

What must be quite a while later, Crowley drops his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder, breath slowly coming back to him. Aziraphale’s hands rub abstract circles on his back. 

“I love you,” Crowley says softly. Aziraphale hums. 

“I love you too. We should get lunch.” He places a kiss to the side of Crowley’s head, very slowly peeling the man away from him and holding him at arm's length. Crowley’s lips and eyes are red, his hair is a mess, and he looks devastatingly human. And handsome, Aziraphale thinks with a swell of glee, but there’s time to enjoy that down the road. He leans in and kisses Crowley’s lips softly one more time, and adds a peck on his nose for good measure. Crowley huffs and pulls away, placing his hands firmly on the steering wheel and starting the car. Aziraphale leans back in his seat and sighs in relief. 

They eat, Aziraphale with perhaps more enthusiasm than Crowley, but even he has to admit the pub’s fries are tasty, and fold themselves back into the car for the drive back. Aziraphale lets Crowley put on music at a reasonable volume, in exchange for a soft hand on his thigh, only gripping a little tighter when he takes a turn perhaps a tad faster than he ought too, but old habits die hard. Crowley keeps looking at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, too.  _ His angel _ , he thinks, celestial benefits be damned. He makes himself drive a little slower. He’s never had more precious time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Kudos and comments much appreciated, <3!!

**Author's Note:**

> The song the Bently plays is Play The Game, by of course Queen.
> 
> Hopefully I will get a few updates done before I head back to school but things are starting to get crazy so- leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed this and hopefully that will spur me on! <3  
You can also find me @ardentlytrans on tumblr


End file.
